


Treading Water

by Ukthxbye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I am not in control here this fic had a mind of its own, Minor Injuries, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock's Coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Sherlock brings Molly to Scotland for a case but everything goes awry.





	Treading Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouse9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/gifts).



October in the Scottish Highlands is gorgeous. The moss on the hills shifts from green to red, and the air crisp and light. The Lochs shine like glass in the sun and fog over in the rain. Serenity is the word that comes to mind today as the fog hangs like a cloud on the stillness of the water. 

But on Loch Awe, yelling and screaming puncture the air. Sounds of people jumping breaking the surface of the water followed only minutes later by an explosion.

Sherlock Holmes, immediately allows his coat to drop in the water to free his arms and swims frantically around debris floating in the water in the direction which Molly Hooper lept from the boat. He spies her just as she slips under the water. With a moment, though even that moment it felt like an eternity, his hand on her and she is out of the water, sputtering and coughing.

“Molly! Oh God. You’re ok,” he breathes out desperately.

Molly treads water with Sherlock,  “Yes...no. something hit my head. From the explosion,”

As a piece of the boat floats nearby, he snags it and brings it under her arms and his. With something to float with, he gently pulls back her hair from her face, examining a gash just back from her temple in the hairline. He tenderly runs his thumb near it and removes his hand. Molly sees him gulp and feels the rise of bile and panic in her throat. She looks at his hand, knowing that blood is her own. 

"S-Sherlock-" she stutters, beginning to shiver. She isn't sure if it's from the cold, the pain in her head throbbing, or the blood on his hand.

“Shh,” he soothes in a low and steady voice. “It’s a head wound, they bleed more and you know this. More blood vessels. It might need stitches perhaps. But it is coagulating already. You are ok...I am here.”

She holds his gaze and feels her heart rate slow and herself calm. The reminder of logic helps her breath through the cold. This will help the bleeding too, she hopes, but oh the throbbing ache.

Too late for anything else but as a rescue, a boat containing Scotland yard, DI Greg Lestrade, and John Watson arrives at their side. Sherlock aids in lifting Molly in the boat and Greg pulls Sherlock in.  

“Bloody hell you two. Gave us a damn scare” Greg spits as the boat starts its turn for shore.

“The feeling is mutual. That last part was not calculated. Well, the suspect is there... in pieces,” Sherlock points back to the wreckage, as he shakes water from his head and clothes. He frowns and shrugs.  _ How little I care about it now _ , he thinks. His concern is Molly, not the case. She sits feebly against the side wall of the boat, and Sherlock moves quickly to join her.

John kneels down and begins examining Molly’s head instinctively. Molly turns to look at him and spies a knowing look. The one that knows what she is feeling.

“It might need a stitch or two,” John sighs. “I’d get to the hospital though get a check on the likely concussion.”

The water is not choppy and the ride is smooth but fast. Molly leans against Sherlock slowly unsure if he will allow it. She is so cold and even as cold as she knows he is, there is warmth being close together. The emergency blanket on her shoulder is hardly enough.   

Just the tops of their shoulders meet at first but soon their whole arms press against each other. Then he leans away for a moment. Her shiver deepens, she can feel his instinctively there as the well. For what little warmth it can provide, he slips his arm around her shoulder, under her blanket, wrapping it around her and drawing her into his chest.  

Molly feels her head swimming and cannot focus on if it is his nearness. Both sit there shivering in unison.

Greg and John trade subtle smiles and nods.

Part of her wonders if he is hiding an injury.  _ Why are you caring about this? You should care more about your own skull, Molly Hooper. Why is it always turning to him? _

His own thoughts mirrored her's. He knows he should be talking about the case with Lestrade, but he can't find any motivation to even give it a consideration.  

"I am ok, I don't need a hospital visit," He says to her suddenly. "But you will need to go. For that I am so-" but he is stopped by the boat bumping the dock.  

Greg and John leap out of the boat and all are scrambling to help Sherlock and Molly out. A paramedic is there, leading Molly away. Sherlock holds her gaze for a moment as his hand finds hers, squeezes it reassuringly and then she is gone.  

He follows with Greg and John to a car.

“We got your second coat from the hotel, “ John says with a grin. “I imagine that was a bit of a chilly swim.”

"And I had to leave my other one out there," Sherlock sighs, looking back at the loch.

Greg smirks, “We'll recover that for ya. Now tell me everything.”

Sherlock slips on the dry coat, but can’t help staring at Molly sitting in the ambulance getting a triage before they decide to send her onto the hospital.

“Sherlock…” John says.

Nothing.

“Sherlock!” Greg yells.

Sherlock turns to him with a face of disgust and walks to the ambulance.

“Molly…” he hesitates as he approaches.

The shiver remains, "Itss...its ok Sherlock," she says with a chattering. His brow furrows deeply and she can't look into his eyes, the blue intensity makes her head throb. She casts her eyes down to her lap.

"I am sorry you got caught in this," Sherlock whispers, "I should have known better."

She smiles sadly, “Well it a good thing I know how to swim. I am glad to help you in any case, so really it was me offering that brought me here.”

The paramedic coughs and puts a hand on her shoulder, “Hey we need to get onto the hospital then, get ye head checked on, aye?”

Molly nods and stands with his help to get in to buckle a seat belt for the ride.

She lets her gaze turn to Sherlock once more as he appears to move toward getting in the ambulance. Is it sadness she sees? Pity perhaps, but her heart leap says it says something else. But his name is yelled loudly behind him. His eyes shoot to behind him. Best she can tell it's John and Greg.

When he turns, the paramedic closes the door and directs the driver on.

Her heart sinks as they ride off, though she is not sure what made her think he would get in with her. She would with him, she thinks.  _ Well, maybe. Why did he ask me here? _ And why was his arm her on the boat so tender. No way it could be considered practical since two freezing wet people next to each other would not help warm the other. These are her thoughts as they drive on.

Sherlock curses as he turns back to the ambulance leaving.

Greg smiles, “Good news some evidence didn’t get blown sky high.”

Eyes rolling, Sherlock gives a large false smile, “Great! Hope your boys get right on it, Gavin!”

Greg throws up his hands, but Sherlock storms off before he can get in a word.

John narrows his eyes in Sherlock’s direction, closes them and breaths in and out dramatically, “Sorry Greg, I’ll talk to him.”

Greg just nods his hands on his hips at first and then crosses his arms at his chest in frustration.

John jogs lightly to a pacing Sherlock near the dock, seeing him lighting a cigarette, obviously, they were hidden in the second coat, and leaning on the fencing. 

“You are terrible at this,” John says as he slows his jog to stand near Sherlock.

Sherlock laughs sadly, and rubs his face in his hands, “I know, John...God do I know.”

He sighs and drops his hands to look at John straight in the eye. “Help me...please,” he pleads quietly.

John half smiles and folds his arms at his chest in thought, but he nods, “Ok, I will help but you gotta tell me how we got here.”

"Call Greg over too, I need as many opinions as I can get, and I only want to say this once," Sherlock says taking a long drag off his cigarette.  

John narrows his eyes, mouth slightly agape. But shakes it off and catches Greg’s eye at a distance and waves him over. 

Greg jogs over, and with a deep breath as he stops, he asks John “So he got a theory or deduction about the case for us?” 

John laughs and shakes his head and places a hand on Greg’s shoulder, “It seems we are the ones who will need to be making deductions and giving advice today.”

Greg furrows his brow in confusion, “What? Then why is he here?”

Sherlock dramatically throws his head back and groans, "Why am I asking you two, I should just suss this out myself with Molly." 

Greg’s frown turns into a sly smile, “You right bastard, you tried to turn this case into a date didn’t you?”

Sherlock looks curiously at Greg, surprised he deduced this truth. He sighs and confirms with a nod. 

“Great job,” John says half smiling. 

Greg nods, “ Thrill a minute almost getting her blown up and all.”

“Are you two going to help or is it let’s kick Sherlock around while he is down hour?’

Both men look at each other and shrug a bit.

“Give us an idea how we got here, Sherlock, and we’ll help you. I promise,” John says quietly.

Sherlock takes a deep breath. He recounts briefly he and Molly's talk after the incident with his sister. They agreed to take things very slow and see where it developed. "Feelings are just that after all. Relationships are another," Sherlock adds.

John and Greg look knowingly at each other but let him continue with no commentary.

“ So naturally I have asked her help on cases and we have talked about other things. Our childhoods, family, and we have gone to dinner after cases as well,” Sherlock describes.

Greg smiles, “That all sounds pretty normal actually, mate. Good for you.”

Sherlock senses the backhandedness of the compliment but ignores it.  

He continues, “Yes, well. This case meant travel and I thought that seemed to be what couples do. Take a holiday and such.”

John bit his lip, “ Oh God, Sherlock. You thought you could turn this case into a sex holiday?”

“No,” Sherlock stands up tall, stiffens and frowns. But his countenance softens a bit as he looks at John and Greg. “Well I didn’t plan it, but I was not opposed.”

Greg snickers, but coughs and holds it back.

John sighs, and holds his best friend’s stare, “Sherlock, here my advice. Go to the hospital. Apologize. Tell her you are an idiot. Anything like that will do. Tell her everything. Every intention. And kiss her properly because here’s my deduction; you haven’t done that yet, have you?”

Sherlock looks away taking one last drag on the cigarette before he flicks it away, and gives a subtle shake of his head.

His insides ache at the thought he might have lost the chance of ever doing that, and he hates himself more than usual.  

"You are in love, you bastard. Tell her. You gotta tell ‘em when you can. Every time" Greg offers earnestly, with a side glance at John. John gulps and nods as looks out toward the loch and back at Sherlock. 

“You almost lost her again. You don’t want regret, Sherlock. Go to her,” John implores him, his own regret manifesting heavily in his face.

Greg texts for a car to be pulled up and both men only nod and smile as Sherlock gets in the car and speeds off. 

-:-  
  
Molly signs her release paperwork. Mild concussion and two stitches. She still has her own blood on her. The nurses were nice enough to dry her clothes for her, though they are now stiff and still very dirty. As she heads through the exit, she daydreams about a hot shower and cup of tea and snuggles in her bed. Which is hours away in London. _Well, I guess I can get back to the hotel with a cab. Maybe he’ll pick me up? No, maybe that’s your head wound talking there_ , she thinks. She decides she'll text him, John and Greg, and see who responds. She shivers, her jumper isn't completely dry and the cold air bites her skin through its damp spots.  

As she turns her face down to her phone, the space in front of her is filled and blocks the light. She sees his reflection cover the face of her phone. She gazes up and her eyes connect with his. 

“Molly, please listen to me,” Sherlock starts but she stops him

“Bloody hell, Sherlock, I just have two stitches put in and a concussion. That’s all. No need to get upset. Can we just leave?” she says though she knows she is avoiding what she sees in his eyes. Vulnerability from him is frightening and every part of her says run now. Though to be honest it's all she has ever wanted.  _ Why is it so scary now? _

“Molly,” he sighs.

"Did the boat have any evidence left? she asks hurriedly walking toward the sidewalk toward what appears to be an unmarked police car he came in, but he places a hand on her arm. She feels the heat of it through her jumper.  

“Sherlock-” 

“Molly! Please shut up for one second,” He yelps, his face falling into something near begging. It freezes her in place.

Recovering, he begins in a softer and earnest tone, “I did not bring you here for the case alone. I love you, and seeing you, the water, I..I just cannot go on acting as if we don’t love each other. I am done being just a friend when I see it in your eyes too. We are friends, but we are so much more.”

She smirks and says with sarcasm and bite in her voice, “Oh so now you have deduced I am just ready to jump in your arms and your bed. I see what this trip was about.”

"And so what if it was," he asks furrowing his brow. 

“Don’t I get a say?” she asks.    


“...yes you do. Always, you’ll get the last word if you need it,” he replies.

“Why get me almost killed?” She is using her irritation to push back the thoughts about Sherlock bringing her on a holiday because those are threatening to stop her words. 

“I thought you described your wounds as mild to persuade me to leave you alone,” he near teases.

She finds that anger she wants, “We could have died and you know that.”

He takes a deep breath, holding her eyes with his, “Yes, I do and that is why I must do this,”

“Really, Sher-”

And with that warning said, in a fit of passion he snatches her arm yanking her to where their chests meet, and so do their lips. 

Molly stands in shock, her eyes still open. All she feels is the warmth of his lips that silenced her words. Both still in the moment so many years in the making. But soon she is lost in the movement of his lips against hers, slow caresses savoring every millimeter and cataloging every reaction. Her eyes closed and her hands find their way in his coat to his back. 

Sherlock feels every nerve firing, tingling at her touch. Those lips were pursed in anger rightly so only moments ago, part for him willingly now and allow his tongue to do its work. 

But reality sets in for them both and they part hesitantly. 

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he says, gently, a slight smile. He places a kiss on her forehead before shifting back to slip his coat off. 

He flips it in his hands and rests it on her shoulders, wrapping it around her. Her frame disappears but her face flushes to a lovely glow. 

Molly pulls the Belstaff tightly around her and feels warm for the first time in hours. 

“It’s still quite cold, my Molly,” he grins. “Let’s get you back to the hotel... and properly taken care of.”

Molly shocks herself at her reaction to his voice with that statement and feels fire pool in her stomach. His eyes reveal she is correct in her reaction and she smiles back, biting her lips.

He slips his hand into hers and leads her to the car. 

As he opens the door, she asks as she slides in, “What about the case though?”

He laughs, “Sod it. I am on holiday with my girlfriend.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was written specifically for Mouse9 for her birthday. I had thought just a coat themed fic and you see what happened. It got away from me. Big time. but I am glad it did.


End file.
